Lamb of Lucifer
by Gulping Plimpy
Summary: In the shadows the unassuming walks. Through hushed whispers the unsuspecting talks. With harsh handling the fragile weeps. In the wake of terror the mortal heart thunders. In the face of danger the feeble flees. And with heart on sleeve and smile on porcelain face it will shatter an empire and destroy those which have walked with the cruel patriarch of time for millennia.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: A Good Day**

Today was a good day.

Mrs Miller hummed an old and jovial 50's tune to herself as she pulled out the pans which held her famous peanut butter and choc chip cookies from the oven – crisp and golden – just the way she and her customers loved them.

Her calf length blue floral dress gently swayed around her nude stocking clad legs as she swayed to the happy melody in her head.

Today was a good day.

But two years prior on this day, it was not a good day for the simple folk of the small lumber town of Forks.

For it was on this day two years back that Isabella Marie Swan had moved to the sleepy town to live with her father, the town's chief of police, Charlie Swan.

But today, right here, right now, was most assuredly a good day.

Mrs Miller's smile faded as her coffee shop's door bell chimed and in stumbled a clearly hungover Paula Mallory. The poor woman looked absolutely terrible and the stench of stale whiskey and vodka near knocked Mrs Miller over from way back behind her pastel pink and yellow counter.

Though, Mrs Miller could not fault Paula Mallory for turning to the bottle. The death of one's child was more than enough incentive to turn to drink, especially so if that child's death was the result of unexplained suicide.

But Mrs Miller knew better.

She knew the suicide of the pretty blonde teenager was nothing short of murder.

But as per usual, her accusations and suspicions were shrugged off as nothing more than overzealous illusions and mischief stirring theories of an old gossip monger with nothing better to do.

With a warm greeting and a friendly and sympathetic pat on the shoulder Mrs Miller treated poor Paula Mallory to a coffee and a plate of her freshly baked cookies, on the house.

It was no consolation, but Mrs Miller had nothing to offer the woman who was on a rusty rollercoaster ride going in no direction but southwards other than friendship, positive words and a free meal from time to time.

Mrs Miller wiped a few crumbs from off of her counter and thought on to the many misfortunes which had befallen Forks within the past two years.

So many lives ruined.

Destroyed and completely broken beyond any hope of repair.

And every one of them were connected to one another – like the wispy tendrils of a spider web, both directly and indirectly. And all of those poor souls' connection had lead back to but one person, one spider, who was the only one who had been left unscathed.

Yes, Mrs Miller might have been many things. A gossip, a nosey parker and utter busy body, but she was also observant to a fault and had a mind for mystery solving like no other. So she watched, she listened and she dug. And what she found was of no surprise to her already suspicious mind, though with no concrete evidence and nobody to take her seriously, she was left to observe the misery and pain from a distance – all the while holding an ugly key to an even uglier door that nobody wanted to open.

Her monster and culprit was seen as the school bright spark, a 16 year old who had jumped to the final year of high school due to distinction after distinction. An academic wonder and example, a social butterfly with an endearing shyness and never fading blush.

The high school sweetheart that the boys loved to be close to but could never catch.

Selfless and ever giving.

But Mrs Miller saw deeper, peered darker into the soul of the spider. Beneath the sugary, delicate sweetness was pure and simple rot. The spider held ruthless ambition, a cold and manipulative mind that would give even the Devil a run for his money and hard instinct of a territorial predator.

Thinking back on those eyes - those cold eyes so dark they were the void incarnate - that had stared at her from across the road one winter's afternoon sent powerful chills up and down Mrs Miller's spine and raised the hairs on her neck.

But finally, the clouds had parted and the sun shone through for the small town.

And Mrs Miller believed that tragedy would now be a thing of the past for the place that she had called home for 70 years.

Today was a good day.

For today Charlie Swan had announced that Isabella Marie Swan had died in a car accident in Italy.

* * *

Mrs Miller sighed in relief as she stepped into her small home, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla welcoming her back from a long day's work.

Her four cats came trotting happily towards her, each one purring and weaving between and against her legs.

Shrugging her crocs off, her tired feet sang for joy as they touched the plush carpet of her entry way rug.

After a long day such as the one she had, Mrs Miller thought it only right that she enjoy a rare glass of brandy.

Pulling the unopened bottle from her cabinet in the dining room she proceeded to unscrew the cap which should have been sealed tight, but found it to already be unsealed. She had not opened this before had she? Although a small amount of the dark liquid did seem to be missing from the bottle. Thinking nothing of it except for her old waning memory she poured herself a small glass and shuffled towards her armchair in the tv room.

"Well, it seems your heinous deeds caught up to you, you heartless bitch. May you rot in Hell for all eternity" and with that said Mrs Miller raised her glass in the air before taking a long swig of sweet liquid within her fine crystal glass.

Today was a good day.

Mrs Miller sighed in pleasure as the liquid burned down her throat, but as the burning intensified to outright scorching she dropped the glass to the floor and clutched at her searing throat. The fine crystal shattered on impact and Mrs Miller writhed in her recliner with blood dribbling out from both corners of her gasping mouth.

She scooted out of her chair and collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. Her hands clutched at her torso which felt like someone had poured pure acid down her throat. Never before in all her years had she felt such terrible pain. So agonizing was her ordeal that no scream could leave her lungs and so she lay there, clutching her abdomen, writhing and squirming on the hard wooden floor.

Nothing could be heard in Mrs Miller's house except for the ever fading gurgling noise that escaped from her blood strewn mouth until finally all noise ceased and all movement stopped.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:** Twilight and all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

**A/N:** Hey guys, first story I've written. This just popped into my head as I was listening to My Dying Bride's song 'The Whore, The Cook and the Mother' – the lyrics don't really match the idea of the story but the melody/tune inspired me. Anyhow, please tell me you're interested in reading this and if you like or loathe the prologue. Some chapters will be short, others longer and I'll be updating whenever I can. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Footsteps Deep Below**

Fear gripped at Bella's heart as she trailed timidly behind Edward and Alice through musty old stone tunnels with only a scant few lit sconces against the walls for some lighting.

Her drenched clothing from the town square fountain she had waded through earlier to halt Edward in his ridiculous suicide attempt was chilling her to her very bones and deeper still.

The petite girl pulled Edward's red robe closer around her shivering body, though it did little to curb the cold thanks to the strong draft streaming through the dank tunnels.

Their vampire 'escorts' continued to look back at Bella every few minutes with darkened hunger filled eyes, giving her shivers of a different kind – and not in the pleasant way.

Bella hoped that being Volturi guards they would have enough restraint to not attack her and make a meal out of her.

Edward on his part could practically feel the fear radiating from his sweet little Bella. He so wished that he could comfort her, hold her within his arms and take her away from this ghastly place.

All of this could have been avoided if not for him and his rash decisions, if he hadn't left Bella on that fateful day...

Edward continued to mentally tear himself to shreds as he walked on to his and Bella's possible doom, though if the Volturi did not kill him first, his guilt would surely and swiftly do the grim job instead.

Alice on the other hand was trying and failing to understand the barrage of future happenings which currently plagued her mind. Every image was choppy with a good dose of fuzzy, and scenes that she could make out made absolutely no sense as more outcomes continued to just flood and overlap one another.

'Frustrating' was far too a mild word for Alice to describe how she felt, never mind the ache her poor head was going to have after her semi-visions were done playing games with her.

What worried Alice though, was that in almost every image and scene that she was experiencing, Bella was right there in the middle of it all.

She feared for her little sister and what was possibly to come her way, as none of the scenes were particularly pretty. In fact, they were outright gruesome.

She looked up to Edward who shared a worrying look with her, as he too saw the jumbled mess of grim happenings the future possibly held for his Bella.

* * *

After what seemed like hours of walking – to Bella at least - through foul smelling tunnels the seven vampires and lone human reached an old wooden arch shaped door which looked as though it was about to fall apart from age-rot.

The hulking vampire who introduced himself as Felix earlier under the clock tower in Volterra's town square undid the rusty latch on the aged door before pushing it open for his kin and the Cullen clan.

As the group of undead and one mortal stepped through the door Edward tried to grasp Bella's hand in a hope that it would comfort her. Bella pulled her smaller hand away though as she still felt much bitterness and anger at Edward at what he had done to her months before.

By his leaving he had ruined her plans and had left her to rot alone in a piss-poor excuse of a town, with no hope of becoming immortal.

Though if all went well here in Volterra and with herself and the vampires safely back in Forks perhaps the 'relationships' could be salvaged and her plans could once again be put in motion.

But had the months of separation from her and the Cullen coven caused great damage to all the hard work she had done in an attempt to bring her goals to fruition? Had her influence on Carlisle waned?

Internally huffing at all the unknowns both with the Volturi and with Cullens, Bella decided that for now it was best to solely focus on the here and the now and to prepare herself for the potential horrors to come.

The group entered the large elevator that was situated on the far end of the door that they had passed through moments ago. Felix entered last, causing the elevator to physically sway and making the large space seem infinitely smaller.

Bella tried to steady her breathing as small, cramped spaces were one of the things that she loathed more than anything else. As the doors shut and cheesy elevator music began to play Bella leaned her back against the end wall of the moving cube and closed her tired eyes. All the while hoping that whatever happened higher up in the castle, her life would not be lost, unless she was to be Turned of course.


	3. Author's Note

30 July 2014 10:47pm

Hey guys

I am so sorry that I have not updated in so long.

Just this past friday I bought myself a new pc as my old laptop finally decided to conk out on me as I was busy with chapter 2 a month back.

Everything on Lamb of Lucifer was lost so I have to start from scratch. I have forgotten a few things about the story so I'll need to work on that before I can continue.

Until then I will be posting a new story which I hope you will all like.

I will be updating Lamb of Lucifer in the near future, so those of you who have an interest in my story will not have to wait too long.

Plimpy.


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